Maximum Ride: Secret Service Agent
by DANZNQUEEN
Summary: After receiving several anonymous threats, the United States Secret Service enlists the help of the flock in protecting the first family! Can they stop terrorists bent on assassinating the President? And what about the cute sixteen year-old First Son...?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is a new story I came up with that I'm really excited about! I've got a lot of great ideas for it. I was inspired by the movie _Air Force One _with Harrison Ford. (If you havn't seen this movie, go rent it now!) I'm the only person who has ever read this so far so I'm sure there are a ton of mistakes. If you see any or if you have any suggesstions, please tell me! Let me know what you think! *nextbestthing you might not want to read this until you have read _Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports_***

**This is set after _The Final Warning._**

**I do not own Maximum Ride.**

Chapter 1

_Mmm. _A delicious scent floated up to me through the open door. I would know that smell anywhere.

_Chocolate chip cookies._

"You smell that?" asked Ella. We were sitting on her bed together, watching an episode of _Lost. _It was the one where Walt gets kidnapped by the Others.

I nodded at Ella. We glanced at each other and burst into laughter, jumping off the bed at the same time and racing for the door.

Down in the kitchen, Mrs. Martinez—Mom—was just pulling a sheet of freshly-baked choc-chip cookies out of the oven. I inhaled deeply, savoring the wonderful scent.

"How's this for a 'welcome home' present?" she asked me.

"It's perfect!" I said as she piled them all onto a plate. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, sweetie. I know they're your favorite."

Ella and I sat down at the table just as Nudge and Angel peered around the corner. "Is that what I think it is?" Nudge asked, pointing to the plate.

"You bet," said my mom.

"Yay!" squealed Angel. "I haven't had a cookie in _ages!_"

Just then Fang, Iggy, and Gazzy walked in.

"Are those cookies?" asked the Gasman eagerly.

"I told you so!" Iggy said, punching Gazzy on the arm. "I know cookies when I smell them." Everyone loved my mom's baking.

The rest of the flock joined Ella and me at the kitchen table, grabbing cookies off the plate and choking them down so fast you would have thought they were starving. But then again, we were starving only yesterday. You know, you wouldn't think so, but feeling full is a hard thing to get used to.

For the past couple of weeks we'd been away, mostly here and there, doing classified-secret-mission-save-the-world type stuff, and I decided that we needed a break. So we came here to Dr. Martinez's place. Just like I knew she would, she welcomed us with open arms. And fresh cookies. She was literally ecstatic when we knocked on her door this morning. And not just for me; she was genuinely happy to see all of us. That's one of my favorite things about my mom—I know my friends are always welcome in her house.

"So how long do you guys plan on staying?" Mom asked.

The whole flock, and Ella, turned to look at me.

"Uh…I'm not sure." I swallowed the bite of cookie in my mouth. "I guess it just depends."

"Oh." My mom's face fell. She got the meaning behind my words—that I didn't plan on staying very long.

"I'd like to stay a while," I said, and it was the truth. "It's just that…you know…"

She nodded quickly. "Of course, Max. I understand. You've got a world to save."

I smiled half-heartedly. "Yeah. A world to save."

Between the seven of us we finished off the batch in about four minutes flat. While the guys went back upstairs to do whatever it is guys do when we're not around, Nudge and I stayed in the kitchen to do the dishes.

"I do dishes all the time," said Ella, making a face and leaning against the counter to watch Nudge and me. "I'll give you two a turn."

I loved Ella, and we were totally doing the whole sister-bonding-thing, but I could already tell that we would never be as close as Nudge and I are. Probably because I've lived with Nudge all my life. Oh, and also because of the bird-kid thing. There were some things Ella could just never understand, no matter how great she is. I could relate to Nudge in ways I never could with Ella.

After we finished the dishes, all of us girls sat down in the living room with a bowl of popcorn and turned the lights out to watch a movie. It was some sappie chick-flick--Ella and Nudge's choice--that Fang would make fun of me for watching, but I didn't care. I was over-joyed just to be watching a television set at all. Sitting there in the dark on the comfy couch, with a mouthful of popcorn, Angel curled up in my side, leaning against my mom--I was the most content I'd been in a long time. Living with my mom was great. I so wished we could just move in with her for good, forget about Itex and saving the world. Just be normal.

But I'm Maximum Ride, so of course, that wasn't an option.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next day after lunch, we were all sitting in the living room watching TV. All of us except Ella—she was at school. I pitied her.

All of a sudden the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," my mom said, getting up off the couch. Normally she would be at work today, but she took the entire day off to spend time with us. Ella, of course, whined when she found out, demanding why she couldn't do the same.

We heard the front door open, followed by a sharp intake of breath from my mom. We all looked at each other in alarm, then jumped off the couch at the same time and ran to peer around the corner at the doorway.

There were two men at the door, both dressed in identical, professional-looking black suits. They both had on dark sunglasses and an earpiece in their right ears. They were standing in the exact same poses; straight-backed, chins up, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped together in front of them. They could have passed as twins. They looked like those one guys, you know…the ones who protect the president, or whatever?

"Looks like Secret Service," Fang whispered from beside me. I swear, sometimes it's like we're one mind.

"What did you do to the _president_, Max?" Iggy asked.

I rolled my eyes. Not that it made a difference with Iggy.

"Hello?" my mom asked the men.

"Are you Dr. Valencia Martinez?" He had a professional, no-nonsense voice.

Mom nodded her head.

"We're looking for a Miss Maximum Ride," the man said. "We need to speak with her about a matter of the utmost urgency."

The flock all turned their heads to stare at me. I shrugged, just as dumbfounded as they were. What did the Secret Service want with _me_? I had nothing to do with the president. But…wait…then an awful thought occurred to me.

"_Angel_," I hissed. "You haven't been messing with the president's mind, have you?"

She shook her head quickly. Well. Okay, then.

Dr. Martinez stepped back to let the Secret Service Agents in, and we all scrambled back into the living room. Iggy threw himself across the couch, casual as can be, and Gazzy fought him for a place on the couch too. Nudge and Angel both leaped into the chair at the same time, and Fang stood by the fireplace, gazing around the room, trying to look all nonchalant. I had to stifle a giggle.

Then the agents walked in, and we all froze.

"Is one of you Maximum Ride?" asked the agent on the left.

"That would be me," I said in my best grown-up voice, stepping forward and crossing my arms over my chest.

The agents quickly sized me up, then glanced at each other. I wondered what that meant.

"I'm agent Finn, and this is agent Ginn," said the one who had spoken before. I heard Iggy snort from the couch and try to pass it off as a cough, and I had to fight to keep a straight face myself. _Finn_ and _Ginn_? Who hired these guys? "We work for the Secret Service," Agent Finn continued. "That's the special government agency who—"

"Yeah, yeah," I said lazily, waving my hand. "We know what the Secret Service is. Can you just explain what the heck you're doing in my mom's living room?"

Agents Finn and Ginn glanced at one another other again, looking slightly taken aback.

"Well," said Agent Ginn. "I guess we can get right down to business."

I nodded. "All righty then."

"Miss Ride—"

"Max," I cut in.

"Okay then. Max. We would like to speak with you in private for a moment, if that's all right."

I glanced at Fang from across the room. He was gazing at me, his expression giving away nothing, as usual. When our eyes met he gave a barely perceptible nod, one that only I noticed. I turned back to the Secret Service agents.

"I guess," I told them.

Everyone filed out of the room as Agents Finn and Ginn walked over and sat on the couch. I flopped down in the chair opposite them, slouching down and crossing my arms. Although we were alone in the room, I had a strange feeling that there were ears listening in through the kitchen door…

"Okay, Max." Began Finn. "Here's the deal. We work for the President. It's our job to protect him and his family from any kind of harm that might come their way. But you see, we are only human. There are some things that are just out of our hands." I noticed his use of the phrase _only human. _"But you, Max—you are very special. But I'm sure you know that already." He smiled at me. I didn't smile back. "What with your unusual…abilities…there are things that you can do, tasks you can accomplish, that we can't. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

I stared at him. "Are you saying you want me to join the Secret Service, or something?" I asked incredulously.

"Not officially," said Ginn quickly. "But under present circumstances, your cooperation with us would be greatly beneficial."

"Beneficial to whom?" I asked coldly, giving him my best death glare.

Agent Ginn became flustered. My death glare is the_ bomb. _"Well…uh, of course…I mean, to the president, obviously. But if things play out the way we're expecting them to, in the long run you would be saving your entire country."

_The entire country? _Please. I was already saving the entire _world_, here.

"You said 'under present circumstances'. What circumstances are we talking about here?" I asked.

"The white house has been receiving very disturbing letters as well as telephone calls recently. We have reason to suspect it may be terrorists. The information is highly classified. I'm afraid that's all we can tell you at the moment."

"So how exactly to you think _I_ could help you? Weren't you trained for this kind of thing?"

Finn sighed. He was obviously becoming irritated. Serves him right.

"Of course we were. But, as we already explained—we are only human, Max. Humans have limitations. There is only so much we can do."

"So what do have in mind for _me_ to do?"

"We want you to act as a sort of extra bodyguard for the first family. To keep watch, maybe patrol the skies…take care of anything that arises. You would be staying in the White House, obviously. Anything you need—food, clothing, anything—we'll provide it for you."

"I won't do it without the flock," I said forcefully. "We stick together. _They_ go where _I_ go."

"Oh, of course, of course," said Ginn. "That's what we mean. We want help from _all_ of you. We wouldn't dream of separating you."

I sat back and thought about it for a few minutes. This was an awful lot they were asking. Protecting the _president of the United States_…it was an important job. Probably one of the most important jobs in the whole country, apart from the president himself. I couldn't believe they were actually willing to trust me with this. I mean, I'm only a teenage girl. I grew up in a _cage. _I've lived on the streets for months. I've never even gone to school (I don't think Virginia counts). And I couldn't just forget about the whole saving-the-world-and-defeating-Itex thing. That had been our one solid goal for months now, the thing that's kept us all going. We couldn't just abandon it now. But, on the other hand…surely it was a good thing to do, noble even, keeping the president and his family safe? And we'd be getting free food and shelter for who knows how long. Finally I came to a decision.

I sighed and looked up at the agents.

"All right. I'll do it."


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all the great reviews! I'm glad so many people like the story. And just so you know, this has taken a lot of research! I've been doing a lot of Googling on the White House and the Secret Service and terrorism and stuff to make this as accurate as possible. It's really a lot of work. (Not that I don't enjoy it!) So keep reviewing please! Tell me what you think!**

**Chapter 3**

Two days later we found ourselves standing on a runway in front a very sleek, up-scale private jet, much like the one we took on the first leg of our journey to Antarctica. It was small, gleaming, and midnight black.

Us, Dr. Martinez, Agent Finn and Agent Ginn, and a woman named Julia Hawthorn were the only ones there. Secret Service wanted to keep this a private affair. Julia Hawthorn was the head of the Anti-Terrorist Task Force, who, as she patiently explained to us, were working closely with the Secret Service on this case. Julia was middle-aged, tall and slim, with dark hair and eyes. She was very classy and professional, but not in a stuffy way like Finn and Ginn. I took an immediate liking to her.

Before we boarded the jet, I said I quick good-bye to Dr. Martinez. I hated leaving again so soon. It was better for both of us if our departure wasn't too long and drawn out, though. Less painful that way.

We all boarded the jet and weren't surprised to find it's interior extremely similar to the one we rode before. There were plush carpets, comfy chairs and sofas, and curtained windows. Very nice. Fang, Iggy, and I did a quick sweep of the airliner, checking for anything suspicious or out of place. Everything seemed fine.

Once we all got settled and the plane lifted off, the agents and Julia Hawthorn sat down with us.

"Okay, guys," began Julia. "I'm sure you're wondering exactly what you're going to be doing when we arrive at the White House."

"Ya' _think_?" I heard Iggy mutter. He was slouched down in his seat and had his sneakers propped up on the table in front of him.

All of the flock was skeptical about our new plan, but especially Iggy. He hated the idea of moving to another new place. He'd have to relearn all his surroundings, and it would take twice as long in such a huge place. It was times like this that I felt especially proud of Iggy. I couldn't even come close to knowing what it's like to be blind, but I know it's rough. Even though he complains sometimes, Iggy's always stayed pretty tough. He deals with it.

"When we get there you will be introduced to the president and the first family," Julia continued. "They'll be waiting there to greet you."

"Oooh!" said Nudge. "I've seen pictures of the first lady! She's really pretty. Is she nice? Have you met her?"

I rolled my eyes, and Julia laughed. "Yes, she is very nice. So are her husband and son. They're a very charming family. Anyway, after introductions are made, you will be taken on a tour of the White House. I'm sure you'll be introduced to most of the staff."

"Cool!" said Gazzy. "So we'll, like, get to meet the Vice President too? And all the special secretaries and the president's adverses—adservis—ad…"

"Advisors?" asked Fang.

"Yeah, yeah, that!"

Julia laughed again. I could tell she thought the younger ones were just so darn cute. "Yes, you'll get to meet all of the president's advisors."

After that she went into a very—and I mean _very_—detailed description of what we were to do when we got to Pennsylvania Avenue. I'll give you my very own shortened version of it. She told us we needed to use our best manners and be on our best behavior—I gave Gazzy a meaningful look when she said that, and he grinned sheepishly at me.

We weren't going to actually start working until tomorrow, Julia explained. We would have this afternoon and tonight to learn our way around the White House, to get to know the first family, and to brush up on security basics. Starting tomorrow morning they wanted us to patrol the perimeter of the White House periodically, and to watch the skies as well. One of us was to accompany the president and any member of the first family whenever they left the White House, no matter where they were going. That part of the job would mostly belong to Fang and me. On top of all that, they also wanted us to do periodical surveillances of some of the other important buildings in D.C., like the Capital and the Pentagon and stuff. We had our work cut out for us, that was sure.

The rest of the ride went smoothly. Iggy and Nudge fell asleep about halfway through it, both of them snoring loudly. I read a magazine, and Fang just sat there in silence. I wondered how he could do that without dying of boredom. Gazzy and Angel played a few games of poker, with Angel winning every time, naturally. Gazzy swore loudly when he lost. I chewed him out for it big-time. The last thing I needed was an eight-year old cussing out the president of the U.S.

"Gee, I wonder where he learns that," Fang whispered to me sarcastically. I flipped him off.

As the end of the flight neared I started to get a little nervous. I mean, I was getting ready to meet the _President of the United States._ The head hauncho. The big kahuna. The most powerful man in the world. You'd have to be psycho to not be slightly freaked out.

I sat rigidly in my seat, biting my nails till they almost fell off and fidgeting uncontrollably. At one point I started tapping my nails nervously on the wood of the coffee table, until Fang finally reached over and put his hand over mine to stop me. I looked up at him, surprised.

"God, Max, calm down!" he said. I just love how supportive he is.

"I am calm," I muttered, pulling my hand out from under his.

I started tapping my feet now instead of my fingers.

"Hey," Fang said suddenly, gently. "Just relax, all right? It's going to be fine, Max. Everything's going to be fine."

I looked at him and sighed. His dark eyes were peering at me intently. "I know," I said. "But, I mean, _jeez, _it's the _president…_"

"Don't worry," he said, playfully punching my arm and grinning. "Just be your usual charming self."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The jet finally landed and we all got off. Waiting for us outside was a shiny black stretch limousine, like the kind you'd see Bill Gates running around in.

"Holy crap!" exclaimed Nudge. "Are we gonna ride in _that_?"

"You bet," said Julia, laughing.

Fang whistled when we got in. "This is _nice_," he said, looking around as he sat down.

"I'm not sure if '_nice_' is the right word…" I said. There was room enough for eight or nine people just in this part of the car alone. There was a mini fridge stocked with champagne, sparkling juice, and soda. In the corner was a large flat-screen television. I had to say, I was pretty impressed. You'd think the big-man himself was trying to suck up to us or something.

As we rode through the streets of Washington D.C., we were all pretty quiet. I think it was finally starting to sink in for the others that we were going to the _White House. _Even Nudge hardly said anything as she watched the scenery go by. It was a miracle. The only incident we had was when Gazzy and Iggy tried to sneak a glass of champagne. They tried to pass it off as the juice.

When we pulled onto Pennsylvania Avenue everyone started to get fidgety. By the time we'd passed the security gates and were parking in front of the White House, we were all practically jumping out of our seats. The driver of the limo came around and held the door open for us.

"I could get used to this," I said appreciatively as I climbed out last.

"Yeah," agreed Nudge and Angel enthusiastically.

Nudge looked behind her at the boys. "Why don't _you_ hold doors open for us?" she demanded.

Gazzy's face scrunched up in thought, pondering the question. Fang ignored her. Iggy said, "Holding doors open is for civilized people."

_Civilized people? _Huh. Well. Guess it's nice to know he doesn't include _us_ in that category.

Julia and Agents Finn and Ginn led us up to the front door and knocked. We waited there, on the front step of the President's house, for what seemed like ages. Jeez, you would have thought they'd be expecting us! I stood there tapping my foot, nervously smoothing out my shirt and messing with my hair.

Mom had tried to convince me to wear a dress like Angel and Nudge, and when I'd flat-out refused, she'd settled for a nice dressy outfit. I had on a pair of tailored black dress pants and a dark red shirt with loose, flow-y sleeves. The whole ensemble fit me in all the right places, and though it was far from my usual style, I had to admit that it looked _really_ good on me. My mom had great fashion sense. And it was patriotic, so that was a plus.

"Max," came a little voice sternly from beside me. "You look _beautiful_, so don't worry, okay?"

I smiled down at Angel. "Thanks, sweetie." I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "And I'm not worried." She raised her eyebrows at me. Oh, yeah. Sometimes it was easy to forget about the mind-reading thing.

Just then the door opened.

I have to admit, I was a little disappointed when the president himself didn't answer the door. I mean, he made us wait all this time, and he couldn't even come to the door himself? Talk about rude.

We were escorted inside by an old, white-haired man in a black suit, much like the ones worn by Finn and Ginn.

"Hello, there," he said cheerfully. "You must be Maximum Ride." I shook his hand. "And, why, this must be little Angel. And the Gasman, and Nudge, and Iggy, and Fang! Am I right?" He shook each one of our hands. This guy had obviously done his research on us. I was beginning to wonder if there was, like, a website on us or something. What would happen if we Googled 'flock'?

"I'm Joe Smith," the man said. "The President's Chief of Staff."

"Pleased to meet you," I said.

"And you!" Joe was a cheerful little old man. I decided I liked him. "Now," he said. "I'm sure you're quite anxious to meet the first family."

"Oh, yes, we are!" said Nudge. "I've been looking forward to this for days!"

Joe Smith, Chief of Staff, chuckled. "Then let's go meet them!"

He led us through a doorway and into a sitting room. The carpet and walls were cream-colored. The entire room was decorated very lavishly, with expensive-looking furniture and paintings on the walls. There was a couch along one wall and another couch in front of it, separated by a wooden coffee table. The couches were upholstered in leather. But what interested me most was not the couches themselves, but the three people sitting on them.

"Mr. President," Joe Smith said, nodding his head as the President of the United States and his family stood up to greet us.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I'd seen the president on television and in pictures before, of course, but seeing him in person was so much different. He looked about ten years younger, for one thing. _Way_ too young to be the president, if you ask me. He was tall, blond, and ruggedly handsome in a Kevin Costner-meets-Harrison Ford kind of way. His wife was standing next to him. She had darker hair and was tall, thin, and pretty, just like Nudge had said. She had a kind, motherly face.

Then there was the first son. The first thing I noticed was that he was the spitting image of his father: tall, blond, attractive. He looked like he was about my age, or maybe slightly older. I also noticed that he was dressed much more casually than his parents, in khaki jeans, Nike tennis shoes, and a striped polo tee. He was standing next to his mother with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Maximum Ride," said the president. "I'm so pleased to meet you. I'm Ben Grant, and this is my wife, Linda, and my son, Jamie." I shook his hand, then Linda's, then Jamie's. Our eyes met. I noticed that his were a really pretty shade of green that made me think of Emerald City in _The Wizard of Oz_. His cheeks dimpled when he smiled at me.

All three of them shook hands with the rest of the flock. "Sit down, please," said Linda, gesturing to the couch. The first family sat down on one couch and we sat opposite them on the other.

"We are so glad to have you here," gushed Mrs. Grant. "Would you like anything to drink? Water? Soda? Juice?"

"Oh, no thank you, we—"

"Sure!" Gazzy cut me off. "I'd like a soda."

He caught me glaring at him and immediately looked down, ashamed. "Please," he said. "And only if it's okay with Max, of course."

I sighed. "Fine. But no Mountain Dew," I told the butler who had come to stand by the couch. "You don't want to see Gazzy on a sugar high."

"So, Maximum," began Mr. Grant. The president. I was actually talking to the President. And sitting on his couch. I could hardly believe it.

"Max," I told him. "Just Max."

"Well, Max, I just can't express our gratitude that you've agreed to come here."

"Don't mention it," I said, beginning to feel uncomfortable. The conversation was starting to get a little too emotional for my liking.

"No, really," continued Mr. Grant. "I know we must be putting you out. Once all of this is over, my family and I will forever be in your debt, Max."

"Oh, really, I wouldn't go _that_ far—"

"Dad, I think you're making her uncomfortable," Jamie piped up suddenly. My head shot up. Jamie was gazing at me, looking up from under his long eyelashes. I felt my cheeks grow hot. He smiled slightly, running his hand through his hair. It was the first time he'd said anything since we'd arrived. I liked his voice; it was smooth, soothing. Kind of silky.

Mr. Grant looked at his son and then at me. Noticing the blush on my cheeks, he said, "Oh, I apologize!"

Then, of course, I blushed even more.

"Don't be so modest," said Jamie. "We've heard of all the things you've done. Escaping from that school. Fighting those Eraser-things and the evil scientists or whatever. All that stuff you guys did in Antarctica. It's amazing."

"Oh, I wouldn't call it _amazing_," said Iggy, leaning back in his seat and crossing his hands behind his head. But he had a huge grin on his face. I could tell he was thoroughly enjoying this change of topic.

"No, really," continued Jamie, addressing Iggy now. "You guys are awesome. Living on your own, fighting Itex, kicking serious Eraser-as—"

"_Jamie_," Mrs. Grant warned.

"Sorry, Mom." He grinned at her sheepishly. "Anyway. You guys shouldn't be so modest all the time. If I did the things you've done, I'd be telling people about it."

"Which is why you could really take a lesson from these kids here," said Mr. Grant, narrowing his eyes at his son.

"Telling people isn't always in our best interest, though," Fang said quietly.

His voice was hardly above a whisper, but he got everyone's attention. All eyes immediately turned to him. Fang was looking at Jamie, his eyes narrowed, his gaze hard. His voice had an edge of steel in it as he spoke. "The more people that know about us, the less chance we have of survival. It's as simple as that. We may have defeated the School and the whitecoats and all those other lunatics before, but that doesn't mean we're out of the woods yet. Maybe you didn't know this, Jamie, but there are still people after us. There always will be, as far as I'm concerned, whether we destroy Itex and the School or not. _You _may think it's great being us, something worth bragging about, but the reality is it's not. It's dangerous. Secrecy is our best chance of getting out of this thing alive."

Wow. I think that was the longest speech I'd ever heard Fang make. He was still staring daggers at Jamie. Jamie was staring daggers right back. It was actually kind of funny, when I thought about it. They were sitting across from each other in identical poses; elbows resting on knees, leaning slightly towards each other. It looked like they were having a staring contest or something.

I never would understand boys.

After Fang's little spiel, the room settled into an awkward silence. No one knew quite what to say to his unexpected lecture.

The tension was finally broken by none other than Angel. "So," she said in her sweet little-girl voice, looking around the room and nodding appreciatively. "This is a nice place you got here."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Later that night, as I was lying on my bed in one of the many White House guest bedrooms (I had the whole room all to myself—no little rugrats to share it with—can you imagine that?), I read through one of the manila file folders that the Secret Service had given me. It was one of, oh, about a _zillion _that were now stacked up a mile high on my bedside table. There were details on everything—and I mean _everything_—to do with this case. There were copies of each and every threatening note the White House had received, lists of terrorist groups that the ATF were looking into, and complicated maps and diagrams that my brain just couldn't process. My eyes stung from having stared at the hypnotizing black-on-white for hours.

I stood up and stretched, leaving the file laying on the pristine white comforter. The bedspread matched the rest of the room: the pure white paint on the walls; the plush carpet my toes were sinking into, that looked exactly like freshly fallen snow; the white-painted wooden furniture; the sheer, almost transparent canopy hanging over the bed. It was like Antarctica all over again. _Note to self: bring Iggy in here sometime to see if he can see._

I walked over to my open window and looked out. It had a pretty view of the 500 square-foot backyard swimming pool and the surrounding patio and garden. The moon shown brightly in the star-studded night sky, glinting off of the pool water. It was mesmerizing.

I decided to go down by the pool to finish reading. I could do that, right? The Grants had pretty much said that no part of the house was off-limits to me. I assumed that included the backyard (which was really more like a park than a backyard…). The fresh air would be nice after being cooped up inside for so long. I grabbed the file and slipped on my flip-flops before leaving the room.

I passed the flock's bedrooms on my way out. All their doors were closed, the lights out. I had already tucked the younger set in, and it was already ten-thirty, so I assumed Iggy and Fang were asleep also. The entire house was quiet as I made my way downstairs and out the back door. Looked like I'd have the whole pool to myself. That was good. I needed some alone time.

I kicked off my shoes, enjoying the cool feel of the patio brick on my bare feet. Reluctantly, I opened the file and began to pace back and forth as I read.

After a while, I stopped reading as my thoughts took over, absentmindedly flipping pages as I paced. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. We were going to start our surveillance first thing in the morning. After we'd chit-chatted for a while longer this afternoon (thank God for Angel), the Grants had taken us on a tour of the White House. We'd gotten to see the President's oval office, the fancy-schmancy State Dining Room, the China Room (who knew the president had a China Room?), and the gigundo library. It was all very cool. After the tour, we were served an elegant dinner of filet mignon—_so _delicious—in the State Dining Room. The waiters even wore tuxedoes and had that white towel-thing over their arms. I felt like some important foreign dignitary or something the whole night.

I yawned. Finally I gave up on the file and tossed it aside onto a lawn chair. It was late and I needed to rest up for tomorrow. I was just about to turn around and head back inside when suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I gasped and whipped around, my body automatically tensing into a battle stance. But at the last second my bare foot caught around the edge of one of the lawn chairs and I lost my balance, lurching over the edge of the pool and into the water.

The chlorinated water burned as it filled my nose and mouth. I broke the surface, gasping. I wiped the water from my eyes to see a tall, thin, dark figure standing at the edge of the pool, clutching his sides and doubled over in laughter.

"_Fang!_" I shouted, slapping the water. I swam towards the side of the pool, screaming in frustration. He was still laughing hysterically.

"Were you _trying_ to make me have a heart-attack and drown?" I demanded angrily. He shook his head and held up one finger, covering his mouth as he tried to stifle his outrageous laughter.

"Stop yelling! You're gonna wake up the whole house. I was just wondering what you were doing out here," he finally said between giggles. "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"Yeah, because people sneak up on other people at night when they're busy and tap them on the shoulder _all _the time," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "God, Fang." I glared up at him. He still had that stupid, smug, amused grin on his face, the one that made me want to reach up and smack it off of him. I was _really_ ticked off.

"How was I supposed to know you'd be so jumpy?" he asked me, holding out his hand to lift me up.

I took it. "I'm not_ jumpy,_" I said forcefully, and yanked my arm back as hard as I could. Fang toppled head-first into the water next to me.

Three seconds later he came back up, swearing loudly.

"What the hell, Max?" he yelled at me, spitting water out of his mouth and flipping his drenched, dark hair out of his even-darker eyes.

I grinned. "Karma."

I splashed him. He smiled—the one that makes my heart beat a little faster—and splashed me back. Then we were in a full-out water-war, screaming and laughing, each trying to get the other to give in first. Eventually I took a deep breath and dove back under, swimming past Fang, diving towards the bottom of the pool. I was about to touch the bottom when I felt Fang's fingers wrap around my ankle, pulling me back. I spun around in the water, yanking my foot away. He grabbed me around the waist, tickling me. Bubbles escaped from my mouth as I giggled. I grabbed his wrists tightly ad held them, forcing him to stop tickling me. Then I let go and swam up. Fang followed quickly, racing me. We broke the surface at the same time, laughing uncontrollably. We swam to the side together.

"I haven't laughed like this in forever," I said breathlessly.

"Yeah, I know," Fang replied as he climbed out of the pool. "You needed it, though, Max. We both did." He grabbed my hands and pulled me up.

He was right. You may not know this, but constantly being on the run from people who are trying to kill you—or worse—can be just a _little _bit stressful sometimes. It was nice, sitting out on the patio beside Fang, our legs dangling into the water, for once not having to worry about the flock. I felt so carefree, so…young. I know what you're thinking—how does a fourteen year-old girl _not_ feel young? Well, I'm not your average, run-of-the-mill fourteen year-old girl.

Just in case you haven't figured that out already.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Okay, so I know this chapter is REALLY short (sorry wOnToNgIrL!), but that is the perfect place to end it and I can't think of what else to add the the rest to make it longer. If you have any suggesstions, please let me know! And please keep reviewing!**

**Chapter 7**

"So," I asked Fang a while later, breaking the comfortable silence between us. We could sit in silence for hours without it ever feeling awkward. "What was your deal this afternoon?"

He looked at me quizzically.

"You were all over Jamie back there. You were practically attacking him."

An irritated look crossed Fang's face. "He was getting on my nerves."

"Why?"

"I just didn't like him too much. I have this weird feeling about him."

"Weird as in how?"

"God, what's with the third degree, Max?" He got up from his place on the ground beside me and walked over and plopped down on one of the lawn chairs.

Jeez. What was up with him tonight?

"Calm down," I said, spinning around on the ground to face him and holding my hands up. "I was just curious. He seems like a nice enough kid to me."

That irritated look crossed his face again. He was laying back now on the chair, looking up at the sky instead of at me.

"I think 'Jamie' sounds like a girl's name," he said suddenly. "Don't you?"

I stared at him for a second, then burst into laughter.

"What?" he demanded, sitting up and glaring at me. "What's so funny about that?"

For some reason I just couldn't stop laughing. Before I knew it I was rolling around on the patio, clutching my sides and giggling hysterically. Every time I sobered up enough and opened my mouth to say something, I would see Fang sitting there gaping at me, looking totally confused and mad at the same time, and I would start laughing all over again.

Finally I managed to stand up, and I walked over and sat next to Fang on the lawn chair.

"You know what I think?" I asked him, fighting to keep my laughter in.

He looked at me wearily. "What?"

"I think you are jealous of Jamie."

"_Jealous?_" he practically spit, standing up. I nodded. "Of _him?_ No way! You're insane!"

"No, I'm not," I said, grinning smugly. "Otherwise you wouldn't be overreacting this way."

"I am _not _jealous of Jamie Grant!"

I nodded again, grinning. "Yeah, you are. You're used to being the "man of the house". The alpha male, if you will. Now Jamie's here, and he's older than you and this is _his_ territory and _you_ don't like it!"

Fang gaped at me. "You…that's…" he sputtered. "You're insane!"

"Oooh, _good one_, Fang," I said, standing up.

"I am not jealous!"

"M-hm. Sure. You just keep telling yourself that." I picked up my file and turned around, walking back towards the door to the house.

"I'm not! Did you not hear him back there? Jamie's a freaking _idiot_, Max, why would I—"

"Whatever you say."

Suddenly he grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around so that we were face-to-face.

"Max, I'm totally serious here. I don't trust Jamie. I'd be careful around him if I were you."

I looked up at Fang. He was gazing down at me intently. His dark eyes were intense. I mean, you know, even more intense than usual.

"Fine," I said, just to placate him. He was blowing this way out of proportion. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Jamie.

"Fine," he replied curtly.

"Okay then."

"All right."

I looked at him.

"Fang?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you let go of me now?"

"Oh." He took his hands off of my shoulders. "Sorry."

We both turned around and went inside together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up!! I've been really busy for the past month, and I had really bad writer's block for some reason. But now I'm over it and newly inspired, so chapters will come more frequently now! Please review, and tell me what you think! :)**

**Chapter 8**

The next morning dawned bright and early. I woke up at about seven o' clock to bright sunlight streaming in through my window. I could hear birds twittering happily outside. The warm bed was so comfy that I didn't want to get up, but I knew I had to.

I got dressed—in my usual jeans and Tee this time—and went downstairs. I wasn't exactly sure where I was supposed to go—I didn't know if anyone else was awake yet, and no one had told me where I was supposed to meet them—so I was relieved when I ran into Agent Finn.

"Good morning, Max," he said cheerfully.

"Mornin', Finn," I said. "How's it goin'?"

"Fine, thanks. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby."

"Good, good. I was just heading down to the dining room. Breakfast will be served shortly, and we need to discuss with you about your duties today."

"Got it," I said, starting to follow him.

When we got to the dining room, the first family was already waiting for us. The president was at the head of the table. Finn took a seat next to the first lady on one side, and I sat down next to Jamie on the other. He smiled at me when I sat down.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"Good morning, Max," said Mr. Grant. He carefully folded the newspaper he had been reading.

"Good morning," I said, helping myself to the pitcher of orange juice sitting on the table.

"I trust you slept well?"

"You bet."

"Good. I wouldn't want you to be tired when you start your surveillance today. We need you in tip-top shape."

"Oh, trust me, we've all fought on next to no sleep before. Our bodies just don't require as much rest as a normal human's does."

"Really?" said Linda Grant. "That's very interesting."

"M-hm," I replied, sucking down my orange juice. "We're different from regular humans in a lot of ways."

"Like what?" Jamie spoke up suddenly.

"Um…" I began, suddenly self-conscious. I should have just kept my big mouth shut. I hoped they weren't expecting some big speech from me or anything. "Well…we're taller than the average human, obviously. And we're stronger and faster. Our bodies are mostly muscle. Um…we have air sacs in our stomachs…and our blood cells have nuclei. You know, like…well, _birds_. And, uh, we can breath in really thin, high air. Obviously." I felt my cheeks burn as they all waited for me to continue.

"Uh…that's about it, I guess."

"That's amazing," said Mr. Grant, shaking his head in wonder. "And this is all because of a bunch of—for lack of a better description—_mad scientists _did experiments on your embryos?"

"That pretty much sums it up," I said, nodding my head.

"So what was it like?" Jamie asked suddenly.

I blinked at him. "What was what like?"

"The School." His emerald eyes looked directly into mine. "Growing up at the School."

"Jamie!" Mrs. Grant scolded. She looked over to me. "Max, honey, you don't have to talk about that if you don't want—"

"No," I said suddenly. Jamie was still gazing at me intently, and I was gazing right back. I don't know why, but I found myself _wanting _to tell him about the School. For reasons I couldn't quite fathom, I wanted Jamie to know what I'd been through. What _we _had been through. "That's okay," I told her. "I don't mind.

"It was…bad," I said slowly, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes. "Really bad." I was vaguely aware that all the noise in the room had halted completely. "The earliest memories I have are from the School. They did so many awful things, to _all_ of us…and not just us. There were other experiments, too. They kept us in cages, all the time—tiny cages. More like _dog crates._" My voice had lowered, almost to a whisper, without my noticing it. An edge of menace had crept into it. "They did awful experiments on us. They hurt us. Even Angel, when she was just a baby!" I choked on my words, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "I'll always remember the smell. All of us remember it. Like Clorox, or bleach…it was so sterile. Like a hospital. Or a—"

"Or a morgue."

I whipped around in my chair in surprised. Fang, Iggy, Angel, Nudge and the Gasman were standing there in the doorway to the dining room. "Yeah," I said slowly, meeting Fang's gaze and narrowing my eyes suspiciously. "Exactly. A morgue."

"Good morning, kids! Come in, sit down, sit down," said Mrs. Grant. "Breakfast is about to be served."

"Good," said Gazzy. "'Cause I'm _starving_. I'm so hungry I bet I could eat, like, a whole horse. No, a whole _Eraser_!"

Nudge made an _'eew'_ face.

"You know, you are what you eat," Fang said with a straight face, looking directly at Gazzy. A horror-struck look crossed Gazzy's face. "Well, on second thought, maybe I'm not _that _hungry…"

Fang pulled out a seat next to me, and I raised my eyebrows at him as if to say, _Was that really necessary? _

He almost smiled.

After the rest of the flock was seated, breakfast was served. Eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, fruit, cereal, omelets…there was a little bit of everything. We all dug in, naturally. Gazzy grabbed four pieces of toast and was layering eggs and bacon between the slices, and Iggy was shoveling bacon down like there was no tomorrow. Fang piled four omelets on his plate at once, and was already polishing off the second. Even Angel and Nudge, who were at least trying to use some manners, were talking to each other around huge honking mouthfuls of food. Normally I would have kicked them under the table or something, but I was too busy stuffing my own face. I noticed that the Grants and Mr. Joe Smith kept glancing up at us as we ate, "_Good lord_," expressions on their faces, but none of them said anything, thank God. I guess they realized that we weren't exactly used to getting food like this.

Once we'd all finished eating, Mr. Smith and Mr. Grant covered our duties with us one more time, making sure we were prepared. We all were. We knew how serious this mission was. They told us to meet back in the dining room in fifteen minutes.

I ran back upstairs to my room first to grab my backpack with all our supplies in it. You never know when you'll need to make a quick escape.

I walked through the door of the dining room, then stopped and stared. Gazzy, Iggy, and Fang were standing in identical positions next to the door, side-by-side, hands clasped in front of them. I put a hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh.

They were all wearing dark sunglasses.

"The name's James," Gazzy said to me. "James Bond."

I couldn't help it; they were just so darn cute. I burst out laughing. You would have, too, believe you me.

"No!" whined Iggy. "It's '_Bond_, James Bond'. Not '_James_, James Bond!'"

"Oops," said Gazzy sheepishly. "Sorry." I laughed even more, ruffling his hair.

I reached over and snatched Fang's glasses off his face. He was grinning at me.

"Nice shades," I said.

"I know, hot, right?"

I rolled my eyes, stuffing them back in his hand as I walked past him.

The boys were going to be a pain in my butt during our stay here, that much I could tell.

**Please review! And a special thanks to wOnToNgIrL for the sunglasses idea. I hope you're satisfied with the way I wrote it!**

**Again, if anyone has any suggestions for the story or anything, I'd love to hear your ideas! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Two hours later I was standing under the blistering sun, pacing back and forth as I kept surveillance. My T-shirt was soaked with sticky, salty sweat that was gushing from every single pore on my body (lovely, picture, huh?). I mean, who knew it could get _this_ hot in _Washington D.C_. in _March_?

I could tell this was gonna get real old, _real_ fast. I already felt like I was about to die, and I was only half way into my first surveillance! Personally, I thought that this whole added-security thing was a little unnecessary. Okay, a _lot_ unnecessary. I mean, maybe I was just being impatient (I kind of had that problem sometimes), but so far I hadn't seen even the slightest disturbance, from the ground or the sky, and none of the rest of the flock had reported anything unusual either. What a waste of my time.

I lifted my long blond hair off the back of my neck, hoping a breeze would come by and cool me off. No such luck, though. Nope. Not for Maximum Ride.

Suddenly I felt a slight pricking on the back of my neck. I guess you could call it a sixth sense. Or, you know, a recombinant life-form thing. But whatever.

I froze, listening intently. I turned slowly, scanning the clump of trees before me. A road was visible just beyond the border of the mini-forest on the side of the white house. I shielded my eyes with my hand, squinting against the glare of the bright afternoon sunlight.

There was someone walking up the road. _Creeping_ up the road was more like it. And judging by their all-black wardrobe, complete with a ski mask, I guessed they weren't here for a social call. I couldn't help but scoff at their clothes. It was freaking eighty-seven degrees out! They had to have been sweating like a pig.

I felt my heart beat pick up slightly and my muscles tense as adrenaline coursed through my veins. It looked like I was finally going to get some action. I slipped behind one of the trees, peering around it cautiously to watch the stranger without being seen myself.

He (or she) stalked quietly up the road, then started working his/her way up through the trees, drawing ever closer to the white house.

I carefully stepped around the tree I was hiding behind, aiming to sneak up behind the stranger. I cringed as a twig snapped under my foot. In the calm silence of the elms, the sound seemed to be magnified only about, oh, a _zillion_ times.

The stranger whipped around, frantically searching for the source of the sound. Their eyes landed on me, and they immediately turned and began racing back down to the road.

_Oh, no_, I thought. _You're not getting away that easily._

And like a rocket I was off, hurtling through the trees after him. Like I said before, we are much faster than normal humans.

I caught up with him right as he reached the black concrete of the road. I was sure I had him, but then out of nowhere a silver car—it looked like a Viper—came out of nowhere and screeched to a halt in front of the stranger. He ripped the passenger door open, but I was a too fast for him.

In about three second flat I was on top of the guy, dragging him back and throwing him to the ground. I kicked him in the stomach and heard the _whoosh_ as his breath left his lungs. He was already rolling around and moaning in pain, but I threw in an extra punch for good measure. It felt good, too.

I heard the slam of another car door, and before I knew what was happening two other men had grabbed me by the arms and were attempting to pull me into the car. They were no match for me. In one swift move I jabbed them both in the jaw with my elbows, and they staggered back. The other guy had gotten up by now, and he lunged towards me, fists raised. I dodged his blow and threw one of my own, catching him in the face. I felt his nose break, and blood sprayed everywhere. He fell back to the ground, and as I stepped toward him menacingly, he scrambled up and back into the car.

I turned back to the other bozos, fiery anger in my eyes. They took one look at me and leaped up at the same time, scrambling to get back into their fancy Viper. I let them. I wanted them to think they'd gotten away, to feel for at least a couple of minutes that they were safe. I watched as their car sped around the corner of the road, leaving tire marks on the pavement and a cloud of exhaust behind them. Stupid air-polluters.

Then I took a running start and leaped into the air, snapping my pretty speckled wings out behind me.

As soon as my feet left the ground, I felt a new power surge through my entire body, from the very tip of my wings to my toes. I hadn't flown in ages, and I hadn't realized until now how much I missed it. There's nothing like flying to make you feel alive, free, energized.

I shot forward, putting on an extra burst of speed, until I had the tiny silver car in my sight. It was still on the same road, but was coming up on a busy four-way intersection. I shot down like a bullet, aiming right for the car. I wanted to head it off before it reached the traffic.

As I got closer to it, I braced myself, turning in the air so that my feet aimed down.

The metal roof caved in slightly and a satisfying _crunch_ sounded as my feet collided with the top moving vehicle. I fell to my knees, gripping the sides of the roof with my hands to keep myself from sliding off. Then, slowly, cautiously, I crawled forward across the roof, heading for the front of the car. When I got close enough to the windshield, I drew my arm back and punched as hard as I could. My knuckles came back bloody, but I'd cracked the glass.

Immediately the car swerved sharply to the left, and I heard one of the men shout out as the shards of glass rained down on them. I held on tightly as the driver righted the car. When I was sure I wasn't going to suddenly slide right off, I shimmied forward again. I leaned down over the broken windshield till I was looking at the two strangers upside down.

"Hey there," I said cheerfully.

"Aaagh!" they both yelled at the same time. Guess they weren't too pleased to see me.

The car swerved again, only way worse this time. Despite my desperate attempts to hang on, I slid across the metal roof and went…well, _flying_ I guess you could say. My momentum propelled me into the thicket of trees on the side of the road. I heard the sickening _crack_ as my head collided with a tree trunk.

I stood up as quickly as I could, feeling dizzy from my injury, and started to jog after the car. But I was too late; it was already speeding away.

I know what you're thinking: Why didn't I just go after it again? Because they were heading straight for the innocent rush hour traffic, that's why.

So instead I flew dejectedly back to the white house, planning my explanation for this whole mess in my head.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I'm sorry it took so long to get this up! I've been really busy lately. I'm also sorry it's so short!! If you can think of anyway to make this chapter longer, please let me know. And review review review!!! Let me know what you think. :)**

**Chapter 10**

"Tell us again what it looked like."

I sighed heavily. I just wanted to go up to my room and take a long hot bath. But _nooo_, they wouldn't let me do that.

"It was a silver Viper. That's all I know."

"She's not really a car person," Iggy threw in helpfully. I shot him a wasted glare.

"You didn't catch the license number? Or a bumper sticker, or any other special markings?" Julia Rothman leaned over me expectantly.

"_I'm sorry_," I said, sarcasm dripping. "I was kind of busy being thrown into a _tree_." I pointed to my temple, the site of a gigantic cut which was already turning a lovely shade of lavender. After cleaning it they'd given me an icepack to hold over it, but it still throbbed like heck. I felt kind of bad for being so rude to Julia, though, because she was so nice to us and I really did like her.

Oh well. I'd get over it.

When I'd flown back, Fang had been standing on the roof of the white house keeping watch. We'd gone inside, and I'd explained everything to Julia and Agents Finn and Ginn. All three of the Grants had joined us, and now all of them plus Joe Smith, Chief of Staff, sat in the living room with me and the flock. Everyone was looking at me: Julia Rothman with mild disappointment; the flock with concern; Finn, Ginn, and Mrs. And Mrs. Grant with amazement and envy; and Jamie with…well, I wasn't sure what with. He was sitting quietly with his mom and dad, gazing at me. His expression was completely unfathomable. I found myself having to turn away from the intensity of his gaze.

"What did the intruder look like?" asked Julia.

"_I don't know_," I sighed. "I told you already, he was wearing a ski mask."

Julia threw down the notepad and pen she was holding, rubbing her temples in exasperation. Which irritated me further.

"News flash," I snapped at her, rising to my feet in my sudden anger. "I'm a genetic _mistake_, not a super hero. Sorry to disappoint you."

Fang put a hand on my shoulder. _Keep cool, _his eyes warned. _Don't let her get to you like this. _I scowled at him but sat back down. I did cross my arms over my chest, though. See, I could behave and be defiant at the same time!

"Is there anything at all that you can tell us, Max? Anything else you remember that might help?" Agent Finn spoke this time.

Everyone was silent as I thought.

"Well," I said slowly after a minute, "they were good. They knew what they were doing." I looked up, making sure to look every one of them in the eye. I wanted to put emphasis on this. "These people mean business. You don't want to mess with them."

The atmosphere in the room suddenly became tense. I saw Julia exchange a worried glance with Agent Finn, and then with the president.

I was starting to worry too, though of course I wasn't about to admit it. I may have kicked those jerks' butts in a snap, but that was only two of them, and I'd had the element of surprise on my side then. They'd be anticipating me next time. This whole security-thing was not going to be as easy as I'd expected.

There was danger ahead of us.


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long! But I promise chapters will come quicker now. I'm over my writer's block, ideas are flowing, school is almost out...I'll have much more time to write now. :) I know this one is short, but I'm almost finished with the next chapter and will get it up within the next couple of days. This chapter sort of leads up to the next one, which has a major plot event in it. **

**Thanks to my new beta, BlueWingedKitty, and my regular beta, nextbestthing!**

**Chapter 11**

A few days later, the Flock and I were sitting on the bed in my room, poring over the secret service files. We were mainly searching through the lists of possible suspects. So far there hadn't been any more disturbances, but I was sure that these terrorists weren't through with us yet. Not even close.

"How tall were these guys?" Fang asked. His head was bent low over a stack of papers, his hair falling like a dark waterfall over his eyes.

"Um…" I said, rifling though my own papers, "About six feet maybe?"

"So we can rule out everyone under that, then."

"Yeah. So that only leaves us with, oh, about two hundred more. No biggie." I flicked my wrist, all nonchalant.

Fang didn't look up, but I saw the corners of his mouth twitch.

"It can't be _that_ hard," Iggy said suddenly, from where he was pacing back and forth in front of the bed. "Maybe you guys just aren't trying hard enough." As he paced he kept pausing and looking around the room, stopping occasionally to gaze at something. Apparently he really could see the white in the room. When we first walked in he stopped abruptly, making Gazzy run into him which made Nudge run into Gazzy which made…you get the picture. Anyway. He was ecstatic. It raised my spirits just watching his excitement.

"_You_ come work on it for a while, then, if we're not doing it right!" snapped Gazzy.

"Um, _hello_," Iggy said. "Maybe you forgot, but I'm kind of _blind_."

"Then don't be telling us _we're_ not trying hard enough!" Gazzy shot back.

Iggy opened his mouth to say something else, something most likely sarcastic and going to tick the Gasman off even more, but I intervened.

"Guys!" They turned and looked at me. "_Chill_. I know you're kind of stressed right now. We all are. And I know this is cliché, but it is not each other we want to be fighting right now!"

They both gazed at me thoughtfully for a second, then glanced at each other, though how Iggy managed to do that remains a mystery.

"Yes it is," they said at the same time.

I moaned, dropping my head into my hands, as they continued to argue, spewing insults back and forth relentlessly.

Iggy stopped abruptly, cocking his head to the side. "Someone's coming," he said.

Less than ten seconds later Jamie Grant walked into the room. I felt Fang's body tense beside me.

"Hey," Jamie said, friendly as ever. He smiled brightly and walked over to stand at the foot of my bed. "So what are you guys up to?"

"We're working," Fang said coldly.

I turned to glare at him. "Could you be any ruder?" I muttered to him under my breath. He just kept scowling at Jamie.

"How's that arm?" Iggy asked suddenly, a mischeivious grin lighting up his face.

Jamie glowered at him. "It's fine," he snapped.

Yesterday morning Mrs. Grant suggested we all go out and play a game of tennis. (Yes, the White House has it's own set of tennis courts.) So we did. Fang sat out—go figure—but the rest of the boys got really into it. Jamie started a bet, and guess who took him up on it? That's right. Iggy. The look on Jamie's face when Ig beat him was priceless. Let me tell you, Jamie is _not_ a good sport. And on top of losing to a blind guy—which you have to admit, is pretty embarrassing—he also strained a muscle in his shoulder. Iggy and Fang sure got a kick out of it.

"We're trying to see if we can figure out who those guys were that tried to sneak in here," I explained to Jamie.

"I see," said Jamie. "That's kind of what I came in here for actually." He smiled when he said this, and I realized that he was only talking to me. Huh. Strange. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind securing my room. You know, just in case. You always hear these stories on the news about kids getting kidnapped for ransom…and with everything that's been going on lately…"

I was silent for a moment, just staring at him. This was the last thing I was expecting.

"You mean your bedroom?" I asked.

"Well, yeah." He shrugged.

"But it's on the third floor," I pointed out logically.

"I know. But it really would make me feel better."

"Sure," I said hesitantly. "I guess, if it'll make you feel safer."

"That'd be great, Max. I'd really appreciate it." He smiled warmly at me, then turned and headed back out my door. I started to get off the bed to follow him when Fang grabbed my arm, pulling me back.

"What?" I said, surprised.

"I don't like this," Fang said in undertones.

"Don't like what?" I asked, yanking my arm away and placing my hands on my hips. "What don't you like about it, Fang, huh?"

He sighed. "I just don't think Jamie's really as scared and innocent as he wants you to think. Just be careful, Max, okay?"

I looked at him. His dark eyes bored into mine. He really was stressing over this.

I nodded, then turned around and followed Jamie out the door without looking back.

**Please review!!!!!! **

**A/N: the tennis court idea was not mine. One of my reviewers suggested it and I thought it was really cute. The thing is, I  
don't remember who it was, and I couldn't find it when I went back and looked through all my reviews. So whoever gave me the tennis court idea, please speak up! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Here's the next chapter! Enjoy! =)**

**Chapter 12**

"So this is your room."

"This is it," Jamie replied, standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets as I examined his bedroom.

The first thing I noticed was how incredibly…_neat_ it was. Man, if I could just get Iggy and the Gasman to keep their room this clean, I thought. But then it struck me that Jamie probably had his own maid, being the president's son and all.

How nice that must be.

He had a giant king-sized bed in the middle of the room, a desk in the corner with a sleek Apple notebook sitting on it, and a tall bookshelf that held a high-tech stereo system and dozens upon dozens of CD's. There was a sliding-glass door on one wall that led to a balcony, which looked out over the backyard garden and swimming pool.

"So this is what it's like to live in the lap of luxury, huh?" I asked.

"Pretty much," Jamie said, grinning.

I walked over to examine his CD's. It was amazing. There was music of every kind, from Linkin Park to Bob Marley to Patsy Cline.

"You've got quite a collection here." I ran my finger along the spines, reading the names of the names of the artists.

"What can I say? I love music."

I turned around, examining the room. Time to get down to business. "So, I don't know what exactly you expect me to do in here."

Jamie shrugged.

I blinked. "I mean, I can't really add any more protection than you already have," I pointed out.

He started to walk towards me. His eyes were on me. I looked down, messing with a lone string hanging from the hem of my tee. "I guess I could, you know, check the locks and stuff, just to make sure they're secure."

"That's perfect." He walked closer to me.

I turned around to his sliding-glass door, examining the locking mechanism, avoiding meeting his eye.

All of a sudden I felt his breath on the back of my neck. I inhaled sharply and spun around. His face was inches from mine. He was so close I could smell the Colgate on his breath, and see the gold flecks in his emerald eyes. My back was pressed falt against the cool glass behind me. I felt my heart rate pick up.

He pressed his hands to the door on either side of me. My muscles tensed up and I felt adrenaline pump through my veins. Then he closed his eyes and leaned into me.

I ducked under his arm.

"Whoa, there, Romeo," I said, backing away and holding my hands up in front of me. Jamie turned around, a surprised expression on his face. I gave a kind of deranged, nervous half-laugh. "What exactly d'ya think you're doin', there?"

He smiled slyly. "Well, I was trying to kiss you." He walked closer to me again. I backed up, bumping into a table behind me and scattering pens and papers to the floor.

"Why?" I narrowed my eyes at him, being sure to keep a safe distance between us.

"Why not?" He was too close. Then he reached out and placed his hand on the small of my back, pulling me closer.

That did it. I pulled my arm back and decked him, right in the middle of the face.

He fell to the floor immediately, howling like a baby. Blood dripped from his nose and covered his hand, dripping onto the disgustingly-clean hardwood floor. His left eye was already starting to turn a nasty shade of yellow.

"What did you do that for?" he asked thickly. His nose was probably broken. Served him right.

"That's what you get when you try to kiss a girl who doesn't want to be kissed, you idiot," I retorted coolly, trying to keep my voice level.

Then I turned on my heel and walked out the door, leaving him lying on the floor, moaning in pain.

Fang was coming down the hallway. "What, did you follow me or something?" I snapped.

He ignored my question. "What happened?" he demanded, seeing the icy anger in my expression. I jerked my thumb behind me. He looked towards Jamie's room, hearing the pitiful moans, then walked down and peeked in the doorway.

The he burst into laughter, doubling over. I sighed in annoyance. "Very mature, Fang."

He came back clutching his sides, with tears in his eyes. Seriously. He found it _that _hilarious. The whole thing was so ridiculous, though, that  
I had to admit I was fighting a smile myself.

"Not funny, Fang," I said reproachfully.

He straightened up. "You're right. It's not funny at all."

Except that he kept laughing.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation and walked away quickly. Fang caught up with me. "I'm sorry," he said. "It really isn't funny."

I didn't have anything else to say to him, so we walked in silence for a little bit.

"So," he began eventually, "what did he do?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, not looking at him, even though I knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

"What did Jamie do to make you slug him?"

I paused, contemplating whether or not to tell him. He was going to be so smug about this. God, I hate it when Fang's right. I figured he'd find out eventually though, and sooner was always better than later.

"He tried to kiss me," I admitted, not meeting Fang's eye.

"I guessed as much. Are you okay?" He sounded so sincere right then that I stopped in my tracks, speechless.

"What?" he asked, totally clueless.

"You're not going to say, 'I told you so'?" I asked. "No gloating? Are you sick or something?" I reached up and felt his forehead.

He grinned and rolled his eyes, brushing my hand away. "I'm serious, Max."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm fine," I told him. Fang gazed at me for a moment longer, as if trying to decide whether or not to believe me, then turned around and continued walking.

When we reached my room again, Nudge immediately hopped up and ran over to me. "We heard noises up stairs. What happened, Max?" Her large brown eyes stared up at me anxiously.

"She broke Grant's nose!" Fang blurted out with undisguised glee, before I got a chance to say anything.

"All right!" Iggy said, high-fiving Fang. I rolled my eyes.

"I don't understand why you guys hate him so much," I said, shaking my head.

"He's a butthead," Gazzy clarified for me matter-of-factly.

I groaned. "Not you, too!" I reached out and ruffled his hair. "You don't have to worry about me, Gazzy, okay? I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"But _Fang_ worries about you," he said.

I felt my cheeks burn. I didn't dare turn around to see Fang's reaction to that. "Does he, now?" I asked, trying to keep the embarrassment out of my voice. "Well, there's no reason to, all right?"

"All right," he answered. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

"That goes for all of you," I said, turning my head and looking at every one of them. My eyes rested on Fang for a moment longer than everyone else. He gazed calmly back at me, his expression indecipherable. Nothing new there. "Okay then. Now that's all settled." I stood up. "Who's hungry?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"No freaking _way_!" I shrieked. The shrillness in my voice surprised even me.

"But I thought that—"

"No! Are you off your rocker or something?"

"What if you just—"

"_No_! After what happened yesterday? I guess you didn't get the hint. I could bruise your other eye for you, would that do the trick?"

Jamie covered his bandaged nose with his hand and backed away quickly as I took a menacing step toward him.

Fang snickered.

It was the next day and we had just finished an uneventful lunch. Fang and I had been patrolling the perimeter of the white house when Jamie decided to come out and have a little chat with us.

"If it's really that important to you," Fang began, looking Jamie straight-on, "_I_ could finish securing your room for you…"

I grinned as Jamie craned his neck to glare up at Fang, who was a good head taller. "No, thank you," he said tightly.

Then he turned around to head back inside. When he glanced back at us over his shoulder to give us a dirty look, Fang raised his hand and waggled his fingers mockingly. We both burst into laughter, and I could almost see the anger rolling off of Jamie in waves. He shot us the bird before turning back around.

"Someone should really teach that kid some manners," Fang said, shaking his head with mock disappointment.

"Yeah," I agreed, "you would think he was raised in a cage or something."

This brought on another round of hysterical laughter. We sunk to the ground together, clutching our sides. As our laughter slowly subsided, I rolled onto my back in the cool grass, looking up at the clear, sunny sky. It was one of those rare perfect days; not too hot, not too cold, a gentle breeze, not a cloud in the sky. It was so _relaxing_—a feeling I hadn't experienced in so long, I'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"He is _really_ ticked off," I said, thinking back to Jamie.

"That's a _good_ thing," Fang replied, derision creeping into his voice. "He needs to not get his way for once in his life. It builds character."

"Oh, I think he's got _plenty_ of character," I said, thinking back to the way Jamie had smiled alluringly at me back in his room. "He just needs to learn how to use it."

Fang smiled and nodded thoughtfully, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. I laid there and closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on my skin, of just _not doing_ anything for once. It was nice.

"You know," I said after a while, "I just don't understand. Why he did it, I mean. Jamie seemed so nice."

"A lot of people out there are like that, Max. You think they're one thing, but…then they're not. After everything we've been through, you above all people should know that."

I sighed. "Yeah, but that's different. Jeb and Anne and everyone else who let us down were evil, psycho murderers. Jamie's not evil—I doubt he could even be dangerous—he's just…naïve. Going about things the wrong way."

Fang snorted. "Is that what you'd call it? Well, it's all the same to me. Evil or not evil, Jamie has a not-so-nice side."

"I still don't understand _why_, though," I said, beginning to get frustrated. "Why now? Why _me_?"

"Why you? Max, you don't see yourself very clearly."

I looked up. Fang was looking down at me, his expression unusually soft. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"_Everyone_ loves you, Max. Don't you know that? I mean, you know, maybe not the people at Itex and the School or whatever…but everyone else. You're just so…I don't know…what did I say before? Charming. And…charismatic. You've just got this way with people. Not to mention you're so—"

He broke off suddenly, his cheeks reddening the tiniest bit. Fang's cheeks never reddened. Mine were by now of course, hearing him say all this heartfelt-sentimental stuff, but Fang _never_ blushed. It made my throat burn with curiosity.

"What?" I asked. "I'm what?"

"Nothing," he said quickly.

"Tell me!" I demanded, getting irritated.

"It was nothing," Fang insisted. "Forget I said anything."

"Oh, no," I said, sitting up. "You're not getting off that easily. Don't you know me at all?"

Fang gazed at me silently, his dark eyes boring into mine. He seemed to be thinking.

"Do you really want to know?" he said finally. "Do you really want to know what I was going to say?"

I blinked. "Uh…yes," I said cautiously, perplexed by how easily he was giving in. Was he really going to just tell me all of a sudden? What happened to Mr. Stubborn?

He slid closer to me in the grass, till we were only inches apart. He lowered his voice. "Are you _sure_ you want to know?"

"Yes," I said slowly, over-enunciating, like he couldn't understand me. Where was he going with this?

He leaned into me then, never taking his eyes away from mine. My heartbeat picked up. "You really want to know," he whispered.

I gulped. "Yes," I whispered back, thrown by his sudden proximity.

He reached over and pulled a strand of hair away from my face. My breathing was heavy and ragged by now, and I realized with surprise that Fang's was, too.

My mind was racing at the speed of light. What was going to happen? Why was I suddenly sweating like a pig? He leaned closer to me. What the heck was he _doing_?

I never got to find out.

"Max!" a voice suddenly called. "Fang! Lunch is—oh."

Fang and I both pulled away quickly, standing up. Fang cleared his throat. "Hey, Nudge," I said, trying to sound normal. I had a feeling I was failing miserably.

Nudge's brown eyes were wide as she looked at us carefully, taking in the blades of grass tangled in my hair, the way neither of us would meet her eye. I could just see the little gears spinning around wildly in her head, coming up with explanations for what she was seeing.

"I can come back in a little bit if you guys want…" she said slowly, trying not to grin.

"No!" we shouted at the same time.

Nudge's lip twitched. "Whatever you guys say. Well, lunch is ready, if you guys are hungry." She turned on her heel and walked away.

After a quick glance at each other, Fang and I followed in silence.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I couldn't sleep that night.

I can't say whether it was because of what happened—or rather, what might have happened—between Fang and me that day, or because the fiasco with Jamie was still branded into my mind (I wondered if I was scarred for life), or just because I overdid the meatloaf a tad that night; what I did know was that it was already mid-freaking-night, and I was not the least bit tired.

I rolled over to my other side, punching my pillow into a more comfortable shape.

I found my mind wandering to Jamie then. Why did he come on to me? I didn't understand. I mean, maybe he had a little trouble getting girls, what with being the president's son and all…It was like that one Disney movie, you know, _My Date With the President's Daughter,_ or whatever? But still. Why settle for _me_? I guessed I was just convenient, living here and all. I was getting ticked off just thinking about it. _Convenient. _Ugh.

And Fang. He was more complicated, harder to figure out, than Jamie. What was up with him today? It was killing me not knowing what he was going to say. I felt heat flush my skin as I remembered the look on Fang's face as he leaned towards me, the depth of his midnight eyes as they locked onto mine, the feel of his warm breath in my face…

I sighed and turned over again. My brain needed to shut up.

After a while my mind finally did start to shut down. I was just drifting off into a peaceful dream, one that I can't recall now, when the bedroom door burst open with a bang and the overhead light flicked on. I shielded my eyes with my arm as I sat up, wondering what the h-e-double-hockey-stick was going on.

"Max!"

I immediately snapped awake, hearing the fear and tension in Mr. Grant's voice. I felt the rush of adrenaline pouring into my veins. Something was wrong.

"It's Jamie," the president said in a choked voice. "He's gone. They kidnapped him."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Here's the note."

I glanced down at the torn piece of paper handed to me by Agent Finn. He said it was found on Jamie's bed, next to his open window. I skimmed it quickly as we raced down the stairs, feeling my stomach tighten with every word.

_Mr. Grant,_

_Listen carefully! You don't know who we are. There is no need for you to. But we know all about you. _

_We have your son. He is unharmed at the moment, but if you want him to see his 17__th__ birthday you must follow our instructions to the letter._

_Since your election, Mr. President, we have been less than pleased with the manner in which you have been running our country. So we are proposing a trade; your life for your son's. Tomorrow at 9:15 a.m. sharp, you will arrive at the Newark Liberty International Airport. About 6 miles down the Pulaski Skyway is a meadow. Get there. _Alone_. We will let your son go, and you will stay with us. _

_Don't even think about alerting authorities. Don't think about bringing your Secret Service with you. Don't even bring those little flying brats. If you do, your son will die._

_See you there._

I felt sick.

When we got to the living room the Grants, Agent Ginn, Joe Smith, Julia Rothman, and the Flock were already there. Mrs. Grant had tears running silently down her face, and was holding tight to her husband. The Secret Service agents and Julia looked shocked, and really ticked off, like they couldn't believe this had happened under their noses.

I understood them, because I felt the exact same way.

"What do you think, Max?" Agent Ginn asked me.

I looked at him silently. What did I think about the note? What did I think about a plan to get Jamie back? Or what did I think about the fact that he got kidnapped from his own bedroom, on _my_ clock?

"I think we're going to get him back," I said, a hard determination in my voice I hadn't heard in a while. I looked Mr. Grant straight in the eye. "On _our _terms."

By seven o'clock the next morning we were all ready to go.

We had stayed up till almost dawn the previous night coming up with a plan to get Jamie back without sacrificing the President. And it was a pretty darn good plan, if I do say so myself.

"Let's roll," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

The flock and I flew down to the meadow specified in the note. Just as I'd suspected, they were already there and waiting, even though the president wasn't scheduled to be there for another hour and a half. We went exploring a little, being careful not to be seen or heard, and found a small plane just past the border of the forest, hidden from view by the trees. So that was how they were planning on escaping.

After making sure we wouldn't be caught, the six of us found a spot in the trees between the meadow and the plane, so we always had a view of what was going on.

And then we waited. And waited. And waited. We were all crouched down uncomfortably, trying not to be seen. Finally, right on time, after what seemed like hours to me, the president came into view.

Just like we had planned, he walked out into the middle of the meadow. He held his arms up in the air, in a gesture of surrender. Mr. Grant appeared determined and prepared. But behind his mask, I knew he was terrified. Terrified for his son's life, and terrified for his own life. I knew only too well how he felt. I'd faced death myself too many times not to. His stomach would be in a knot, his hands clammy and shaking. He'd be having trouble breathing, and his heart would be beating rapidly.

And yet, looking at him now, you would never suspect any of that. He was putting on a brave face, hiding his fear. And he was doing it almost as well as Fang and I. That's just what you do when you're protecting the ones you love most. You pretend everything is fine, even when it's not.

The terrorists saw Mr. Grant immediately. A couple of them rushed over to him. They yanked his hands behind his back and chained them with handcuffs. He didn't even wince.

"Where's my son?" he asked.

"Shut up," one of them growled, punching Mr. Grant in the stomach. The pain was clear on his face, but he didn't make a sound.

"Now, now," came a voice suddenly. I looked over. A man was coming down the steps of the plane. He was older, and dressed in an expensive-looking suit and tie. I could just tell by the smug, superior look on his face that he was the guy running things around here.

My throat burned with hatred. He was the man causing us all this trouble.

"You will see your son, Mr. Grant," the man said. "I am an honest man. I never go back on my word."

He stood in front of the president, appraising him with his eyes. "My, my," he whispered patronizingly to Mr. Grant. The only reason we could hear him was because of our super-human hearing. "The President of the United States, the most powerful man in the world. Look at you now."

Mr. Grant glared at the man, never breaking eye contact.

"I want to see my son." He spoke each word slowly, deliberately.

Without taking his gaze off of Mr. Grant, the man snapped his fingers behind him. "Get the boy."

The other two men quickly turned and headed for the plane. When they returned four minutes later, they had Jamie with them.

He looked awful. He was bound and gagged. I could see the blood where the rope was cutting into the skin on his wrists. His green eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles underneath them, and he was pale from fright. I couldn't help feeling sorry for him. Jamie was a spoiled rich kid used to luxury, to getting anything his little heart desires. This was so far from his normal life, it had to be killing him.

The men shoved him roughly ahead of him, making him stumble, and almost fall.

"Jamie!" Mr. Grant shouted, starting to rush towards him, but he was held back by the main guy putting a hand on his chest.

"Ah, ah, ah," he said mockingly. "Now, the deal was your son goes free and we get to keep you. A nice little father-son reunion was not a part of the deal."

"Please," Mr. Grant begged, finally starting to break down. "Let me speak to him for just a minute. Let me say goodbye."

"Now, Mr. President, I don't think that's a very good idea. We don't want you trying anything, now."

Then he started to steer Mr. Grant towards the plane. He motioned for his cronies to follow, leaving Jamie out in the middle of the meadow, still bound and gagged.

"Now's our chance, guys," I whispered, slowly and quietly standing up.

Jamie eyes widened when he saw us, and I put a finger to my lips to tell him to stay quiet. Angel went over to him to untie him while the rest of us followed then men and Mr. Grant.

Stage one of plan Save-the-President was compete.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Once the terrorists were all on the plane and out of sight, we took our positions around the aircraft. The moment the plane rose, we would rise with it, following it till we were away from civilization and no civilians would be in any danger. Then we would make our next move. Angel would get Jamie back to the safety of the white house and then join us.

Halfway through our trip, Fang flew over next to me.

"I think they're headed towards the Atlantic," he whispered, even though the noise of the engines would drown out any peep from us. I had guessed as much; we'd been making a straight line directly east.

I nodded once. He understood. That's when we'd make our move. The ocean was the perfect cover-up. No mess, no evidence. A perfect break.

Dusk was beginning to set in as the coastline of Delaware appeared, and we exchanged glances with one another, silent codes. We prepared to attack.

Iggy flew above us, guarding the top. The rest of us took our positions around the sides. Gazzy, with his small, able fingers, went for the hatch on the side of the craft. With one of the excellent (albeit annoying, sometimes) lock-picks he and Iggy had invented, he went to work on the handle. The moment the hatch opened and air began to rush in would be the end. There would be no going back. We would have to be ready. The life of the President of the United States was at stake.

No pressure or anything.

I flew beside Gazzy, ready to jump into action. I would be the first to enter the plane, naturally, with Fang right behind me.

Gazzy got the hatch open, and it was go-time.

Being opened from the outside, the door slammed back against the side of the plane, almost breaking free from its hinges. I pulled myself inside immediately, straining against the force of the wind rushing past.

"Hey!" shouted one of the terrorists as I landed on the floor. There were only two of them back here; Suit Guy and his crony. They were shocked for the moment, paralyzed.

The plane was tiny; the area behind the cockpit was the size of a small bedroom, and that was the entire plane. The cockpit was separated with a small windowed door, and I could see the pilot craning his neck around to see what the h-e-double-hockey-stick was going on back here.

The president was tied up in the corner, a piece of silver duct tape covering his mouth. His eyes were wide with surprise.

"How's it going?" I asked, steadying myself as Fang flew in behind me.

"Thought we'd drop in," he added.

We were so funny.

Regaining himself, the second terrorist growled at us—yes, 'growl' is the only way to accurately describe it—and lunged at me, knocking me on my back. I rolled over till I was on top of him, and punched him in the face once, twice, three times. He groaned.

It was satisfying.

I pulled my arm back to go in for a fourth time, when I heard a sharp click and felt something pressing against the back of my head. I froze.

"Don't move," Suit Guy said, pressing the gun harder against my hair. I slowly raised my hands above my head.

I was irritated. Being interrupted when you're in the middle of a good pounding is really annoying.

"Stand up," Suit Guy ordered.

Being ordered was also really annoying. This guy had it coming. But since I didn't feel like getting shot in the head today, I complied. He kept the gun trained on me.

"Good girl."

What was I, a dog?

He turned to Fang. "Brooder Boy here is going to go outside and tell your little _flock _to turn around and fly back to the nest. Then you're both going to leave and no one gets hurt. Sound good?"

I rolled my eyes at Fang. He smirked, the kind so small only I noticed.

"All right," Fang said to Suit Guy, acting like he was going to turn around and jump out the hatch. But then, swift as a lightning bolt, he did a roundhouse, knocking the gun out of Suit Guy's hand. I lunged after it, sliding it across the floor and out into the open air before Suit Guy could reach it.

"No!" he shouted. I stepped down hard on his outstretched hand, and he screamed in pain.

I was just turning to the president to untie him when suddenly a shot rang through my ears an unendurable pain shot through the back of my left calf. I crumpled to the ground in a heap, crying out. Every cuss word I knew ran through my mind as I clutched my leg, my hands coming away drenched with warm, sticky blood.

There was a second shot, this time followed by an even louder explosion. The wall of controls on the other side of the plane burst into flame.

By the time my head cleared enough for me to think, Fang had already wrestled the gun away from the second terrorist and knocked him unconscious.

_Stupid, Max, stupid, stupid, stupid, _I thought to myself. Of course both terrorists had guns. I should have checked the first guy. I should have made sure he was unconscious. This was my own fault. Stupid.

Now I was shot, _and _the plane was on fire.

Fang ran over and knelt beside me, his hands fluttering over me helplessly, not sure of what to do.

"Are you all right?" he asked me anxiously. I nodded, my lips a tight line. I wanted to be sure I was in control of the pain before I opened my mouth.

"'M fine," I said through my teeth.

I knew he didn't believe me, but he knew I could handle it. It wasn't like neither one of us had never been shot before. Gunshot wounds were not new to either one of us.

"Max, the plane is going to explode," he said tightly, fear and urgency creeping into his voice. "We need to get out of here."

I nodded again, starting to get to my feet. He held his hand out and I took it, using his strength to pull myself up.

"You get the others," he told me. "Fly with them back to shore. I'll take care of Bonehead and Mr. Grant."

"Um, hold up!" I said. "No way. I'm staying here. I'll help finish him off."

"No, you get everyone away from the plane," he said. "I can take care of these guys."

I stared at him for a long hard moment, debating whether or not to listen.

"Go, Max!" he shouted at me. "Hurry! We don't have much time!"

So I did. Fang had handled worse than this before. If he wanted to get the bad guy today, I'd let him.

I turned and jumped out the hatch into the dark night, stretching my wings out and letting the air take hold of me, ignoring the throbbing in my leg. I watched the blood flow out from behind me as I flew.

"Max!" Angel called. "What's going on?"

"The plane is going to explode!" I yelled to everyone. "Fly back to shore!" We were still surprisingly close to the mainland; everything had happened so quickly.

"Where's Fang?" Gazzy asked.

"He's coming! Hurry!"

Everyone did as they were told.

Flying at full-throttle, the five of us reached the beach in about 33 seconds, landing lightly on the soft sand.

Immediately Nudge ran over to me and hugged me tight around the waist.

"Where's Fang?" Iggy asked, worry in his voice.

"He's coming," I said again. "He's finishing off—"

And then the world blew up.

The big black object with a red tinge that was floating through the stars turned into a huge burning mass of fire, brighter than the sun, as the plane exploded midair.

Fang hadn't jumped out of it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

For a short moment I was frozen, paralyzed with shock and fear. I stared up at the flaming ball in the sky, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

And then I snapped.

"_FANG!_" I screeched, feeling everything break within me. The world was over.

Barely aware of what I was doing, my legs started to sprint for the water. I forgot that I could fly. I forgot I had a flock, a family, behind me. As my feet splashed into the frigid ocean, all my mind could wrap around was the fact that Fang was in that big ball of fire.

Iggy caught up to me as I reached the water, wrapping his arms around my waist, holding me back. The salt from the ocean and the salt from the tears streaming down my face mixed as we both tumbled into the ocean, my struggling doing nothing against Iggy's ropey arms.

"No, Max!" he yelled, wrapping his arms tighter. I was too far gone to notice the despair that filled his voice, too.

"_Fang!" _I yelled again, not even caring that my voice cracked. "Oh, God," I cried. "Fang! Nooooo!"

Could this really be happening? Did that plane just explode with Fang in it? No. No. It couldn't be real. It just couldn't. I couldn't bear it. If Fang was gone, I couldn't live. If Fang was gone, I would die, too.

Still struggling desperately to get free, I felt Iggy pull us farther back onto the beach, out of the water. I heard someone sobbing, heartbroken, gut-wrenching sobs. It couldn't be me. I wasn't capable of making that sound, was I?

_No, no, no, Fang, oh, God, Fang, _I kept yelling like a record on repeat, till my voice was hoarse and cracking. Distantly, I felt Iggy stroking my hair, whispering to me. Was it my imagination, or was his voice thick with tears, too?

"I know, Max," he said.

Time seemed to stop. Everything stopped. The earth stopped turning. My heart stopped beating. Surely it couldn't continue to pump away when it's other half was gone, lost in that giant mass that was the Atlantic Ocean. Eventually I stopped struggling, leaning into Iggy's body, clutching him for support. I couldn't hold myself upright anymore. There was no point anyway. Without Fang, there was no point to anything. Even Angel, my baby, calling out to me from behind, couldn't make me respond. Nudge touching my arm in her gentle, motherly way couldn't make me turn my eyes away from the burning disaster in front of me. The flames flickered over the terrified, despair-ridden faces of my flock, but I was gone.

The pain I felt was like none I'd ever experienced before. Getting shot? Piece of cake. Broken arm? No biggie. Concussion? I'd welcome one after this. After this, I'd gladly subject myself to the torture inflicted on us at The School. Nothing compared to this, the pain of my heart ripping to shreds inside my chest as I continued to breathe.

Without Fang, who was I? I was no one.

Without Fang, I wasn't Maximum Ride.

And Fang was dead.


End file.
